


Nip

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 4: Biting. Sam stumbles across yet another of Dean’s many kinks, and plays it. Light porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nip

Dean watches Sam break the end of the thread off with his teeth, and has to look away. He almost wishes he lost the coin toss for doing the laundry and mending this time, because it’s the third time he’s watched Sam do it, and each time, Dean’s cock has given a twitch more insistent than the last.

Sam knows Dean is watching, and tries not to smirk. He lost that coin toss purposefully – his favorite pair of jeans acquired a new tear the other night, and he’s better at mending than Dean is – more patience, he thinks to himself.

Dean slips out the motel door, muttering something about bringing supper back with him. The bookcase – why is it always bookcases? that fell on Sam in last night’s hunt didn’t do any damage, aside from giving Sam a pretty decent shiner. Both of them knew from experience it would be best if they stayed out of the diners until that faded. Dean reaches a little mom and pop place, just asks for two of the specials, please and thank you ma’am. He’d made sure his sweatshirt, well Sam’s sweatshirt really, covered his little issue. The woman at the counter gives him a motherly smile, and he kicks himself mentally, grinning back at her, because he’d been thinking about Sam again.

Sam had stowed the mending kit by the time Dean got back with the Styrofoam containers, and had cleared the research off the table. Dean hates being trapped in the room like this, Sam knows, so he tries to do a little extra as an unspoken thank you. He’d even set a pair of cold beers out, and Dean gives him a smile as he cracks them open, letting Sam dig out the food. Sam pops the lid on the container, and thanks his lucky star that Dean wasn’t looking right at him. A pair of hot dogs nestle side by side in the container, with a side of waffle fries and coleslaw.

Dean’s heart kind of sinks, looking at his own food. Damn. The universe hates him. Sam made a little pleased noise as he dug into the fries that stretched Dean’s jeans to the limit of comfort. After most of his own meal was gone – Sam made a show of appreciating the fries, talking about how long it had been since he’d had waffle fries, his favorite - he watches Sam bite into the dog, his sharp teeth sinking sensuously- god, Dean, enough, he thinks to himself. Sam works through both the dogs the same way, wrapping his tongue around the bun to catch the dripping condiments before biting down again. Dean barely notices finishing his own supper, fixes on the arduous process of watching the show in front of him without really seeming to watch.

Only Sam knew exactly what was going on. Once they’d finished, he beckoned Dean over, telling him to strip off his shirt so Sam could clean the cut on his chest. He opens the med kit, holding the corner of the antiseptic wipe package with his teeth to tear it open, and disinfects the wound. Then he holds the end of the scissors in his mouth, as he butterfly tapes the cut. Dean’s breathing is ragged by this point, and Sam knows he damn well has his brother in the palm of his hand. He flicks his palm out, and knocks Dean backwards, drags his jeans off.

“I meant it when I said strip,” he says mildly.

“Sorry,” gasps his brother, who is red in a couple of different places. Sure, it’s habit – supper, wound care, lazy fucking – but there’s an edge to it tonight. Sam bends between his brother’s knees and licks a long slow line along the inside of Dean’s thighs. Dean’s hard as a rock, writhing under the touch.

“So what’s got you all hot and bothered, Dean?” There’s an underlying chuckle to the question, the smug one that Sam never can suppress when he’s discovered another of his brother’s many kinks. The gig is up.

“Sam…”

Sam doesn’t bother pressing him. He eyes his brother, thinking he might not need to – if he was any judge, Dean’s been nursing that hard on for over an hour. Dean had thought Sam missed the surreptitious touches during supper, but, really, ought to have known better. A couple more long slow licks that have Dean positively quivering, and then Sam sinks his teeth into the smooth inner thigh before him. Dean convulses, shooting stream after stream of come, and Sam moves to the other thigh before he finishes, biting down again, prolonging the show that he watches with eyes raised.

He waits patiently as Dean came down from the ecstasy of orgasm – such a long orgasm, too – and smiles as Dean’s eyes meet his. Sam traces his fingers along the bite marks.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a long night,” he says with a wicked smile, and Dean’s eyes roll back into his head with nearly senseless pleasure at that promise, and the pain of a too-quickly returning erection as Sam opens his mouth and snaps his teeth together.

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. Here lies porn. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment.


End file.
